


Some liars walk into a bar

by MostFacinorous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Drinking, Drinking & Talking, Gambling, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 22:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18303341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: Prompt: Steve and Loki meeting without recognising each other and having a good time (thinking the other is a little shit and having surprising insights into each other's character). maybe reveal? nothing too negatively dramatic.





	Some liars walk into a bar

It’s funny; when Thor first offered Steve free range of Asgard, he didn’t figure he’d make much use of it. After all, there was all the inherent problems of culture shock, with the added bonus of the likelihood that anyone he offended was 1. At least as strong as him if not stronger, 2. Immortal more-or-less, and 3. Probably armed to the teeth.

So Steve figured he’d just stick to the palace, where all the guards and servants and courtiers and pretty much everyone knew who he was and had been instructed to help him if he got lost or looked confused or got something wrong.

Unfortunately, with Thor being temporarily king, his word was literally law, so he’d effectively assigned Steve a whole castle’s worth of babysitters. Odin was sleeping, from what Steve understood, and when that happened it could apparently last for centuries. Which meant Thor himself was busy ruling a whole magical world, and while Steve was supposedly there to be some kind of dignitary presence, remind the other realms than Earth existed and could hold its own, thanks very much…

Mostly, he felt like he was under everyone’s feet, in their way. A burden.

It was a feeling he was very familiar with and none-too-fond of.

So he slipped out. Took his Asgardian exercise wear, because he figured it probably was closer to street clothes than the fancy court gear, and made his way away from gleaming floating spires and the sounds of feasting and merriment.

And as near as he could tell, every day was a feasting and merriment day in the halls of Asgard. Or maybe that was just a King Thor thing.

Which was fine, good for them, but the constant music and food and the ever watchful eyes… all it did was make Steve wish for some normal company that didn’t treat him like a toddler.

And he found it, down the road a little ways.

He’d passed the first two taverns he’d come to, just in case anyone else from up at the palace had wandered down and might recognize him. But they say third time’s the charm, and when he made his way inside, it was dark, smoky, smelled like boiled meat and veggies, and there was a slightly boisterous game of dice going on at a back table.

For half a second, he was transported to a different time, on a different planet. But when the barman called for his order, he snapped out of it quick enough.

He sat a single gold coin down on the bar, pretty sure that it ought to be enough to keep him drinking til they closed, and asked for a beer.

That was one great thing about Asgard-- and there was a lot of great stuff, but the Allspeak was probably Steve’s favorite. He said ‘beer’, who knew what they heard, but at least it meant he didn’t get cider or mead or whatever other sweet alcohols they had-- he got a nice dark hoppy ale. He raised his tankard the barman’s way in thanks, and took a swig.

“Not many people come in here flashing that sort of wealth.”

It was said wryly, without apparent malice, and the voice came from somewhere near his elbow. Steve quickly lowered the mug, wiping at the foam mustache he sported.

He met a pair of curious bright green eyes, attached to a fairly disinterested seeming face-- the only other hairless face in the whole bar, Steve noticed. And the only guy with red hair, besides. His clothes seemed a little worse for the wear, but he obviously fit in, and the guys at the game table were watching the interaction closely.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to look like I was boasting.” Steve offered easily. “Just got paid from on high, and I wanted a drink. Didn’t have time to get change before I came here.”

“And you’ve more where that came from.”

The guy’s eyes snapped down to Steve’s belt pouch, and Steve flushed, entirely too aware of the way it jangled when he walked.

He couldn’t help but tense a bit, too, worried that he was about to be knocked over by some Asgardian ruffians.

Nobody would come out of _that_ looking good.

“I don’t want any trouble--” Steve began, and the red haired Asgardian man threw his head back and laughed.

“Nor do we, I assure you-- my friends and I just thought we might extend you an invitation to come and lose some of your earnings at our table, if you were of a mind to play.”

That was … far from unwelcome, as far as Steve was concerned. And considering exactly how much gold Thor had given him, he figured a little betting wouldn’t hurt. Especially if he looked at it as a trade for an evening of normal companionship.

“What are you playing?”

“...Dice?” The man answered, incredulous, and obviously suspicious of his ignorance. Steve blinked. A land of immortals, and they only had one dice game?

“I’m not from around here-- you’ll have to teach me your game. But in trade, I’ll teach you one of the ones we play in my home.”

The man’s eyes-- the most expressive part of his face by far-- grew sharply interested.

“And where is home, then?” He asked, beginning to guide Steve back to the table.

Steve thought fast.

“Maybe I’ll trade you that as winnings, too.”

The guy stopped, though he was grinning.

“It has been a while since I played for secrets. I should warn you, though-- that will have to be our private wager. The other men are interested mostly in coin.”

“Well, I do have that.”

“And may I have your name, or is that to be played for as well?” The other asked, eyes dancing with mirth.

Steve made another quick decision; one of the cooks had had a hard time with remembering his name, and had defaulted to something from her own tongue.

“Stefna.” He answered.

“Stefna,” The man repeated. “I am Fell, and these are Ingur, Njal, and Raynor.” he gestured at each of his companions in turn.

“Stefna comes from elsewhere, and needs to be taught how to play dice- but he’s offered to buy a round for you while I show him the way of it.”

Fell grinned at Steve, and Steve wrinkled his nose, but turned to the barkeep and gestured around at the men at the table, who stood greedily.

“Oh, I like him already. Good find, Fell.”

As they sauntered off to place their drink orders, Fell sat down and gestured for Steve to pull up a chair.

“Did you want something to drink?” He asked, still standing, in case he needed to go back to the bar, but Fell just smiled up at him, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t just given Steve’s money away without permission. That fake innocence probably worked in his favor often, Steve thought.

“Thank you, no. I find it’s much easier to beat everyone when they’ve gone sloppy from a drink too many. Trust me, that round you’re paying for will only do you a favor, later.”

Steve snorted and pulled a stool over from a nearby table.

“Alright, fine. So: Dice.” He gestured, able to see that there was a writing tablet on the table, along with six six-sided dice.

“Yes. Dice. So to start, you must gain the board by rolling a thousand points in a single roll. Fives are fifty points each, ones are one hundred, and every other number is nothing, unless you’ve three of it. So three threes is three hundred points. Three ones, however, is one thousand. Four of one kind doubles the score-- so four threes is six hundred, five threes is one thousand two hundred, and so on. All six in a row-- that is, one each die of each available number-- is worth one thousand five hundred. You keep the dice that land on scoring numbers, and may roll as many times as you like to get as high a score as possible-- save if you use all of the dice, in which case you must roll all of them again, or if you have a roll in which no new scoring dice are rolled, and then your turn is over and you lose all that you rolled up until that point. You can stop at any time to preserve what you have rolled. The first player to reach twenty thousand wins, and as you get close to the end, you may reduce the number of dice you use to roll-- going over the limit moves your score backwards.”

Steve nodded along, processing.

“Alright, that seems simple enough-- though I may need help with scoring as I go.”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that. You’d be hard pressed to silence the others in their attempts to count your dice before you do.”

“And where does the betting come in?” Steve asked.

“There are small pots for milestones, the first to reach five thousand, the first to get ‘on the board’, and then there are round bets-- for whoever rolls the highest score on a single round of rolls.”

“Alright, I think I have it. It’s not too dissimilar to a game I know called Zilch, actually.”

Fell cocked his head, shrugged, and nodded as the men filed back to their seats.

“We had just finished a game when you came in, and no one had gotten on the board yet for the new one. It seems to me we can continue from there-- Stefna, you’ll need to add your ante. One gold.” Fell gestured to a small chest on the corner of the table.

“And is that for a round bet, a milestone bet, or for the winnings?” He asked, pulling out a gold piece to add to the pot.

“The final winner,” Njal told him. “The winner of each of the smaller bets also adds a bit to the chest with each win, and we bet directly into the chest when the end of the game gets close.”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve answered, sipping his beer. “One final question: Who won the last round?”

Fell gave a crooked grin and lifted his hand, and Steve rolled his eyes.

“Shoulda guessed. Okay. Who starts?”

“Newcomer goes first.” Raynor said, pushing the dice in Steve’s direction.

He scooped them up and shook them in his hands.

Fell held up a finger.

“Bets on the first to be boarded?”

“Two copper.” Ingur answered quickly, and Steve paused in his shaking.

“I uh, only have golds.” He admitted quietly. Fell nodded.

“Make your roll, then give me a gold and I will get you smaller coins from my winnings.”

And so the game began.

Steve didn’t make it on the board, his luck fizzling out at his third roll and with only three hundred points built up. So he passed the dice over to Raynor, to his left.

He, too, failed to ‘board’, and so the dice were handed to Njal.

His first roll, he got three ones and the pot of copper pieces, and his one thousand was added to the tablet. Steve noticed that though Fell was keeping score, it was done in such a way that everyone could see, and there would be no room for accusations of cheating.

Ingur went next, but also fizzled out, and then it was Fell’s turn. It took him a little longer, but finally he built up his thousand points, and handed the dice over to Steve.

“For this round, bets for highest score? And Stefna, to be clear- you can place your bet on someone else rolling high, if you like.”

That, naturally made things a bit more complicated, or at least it had the potential to. Each of the men laid their bet on themselves. Which made sense, this early on. Steve couldn’t help but wonder, though, if it was partially a superstitious thing-- not betting on yourself felt like bad luck.

Either way, more coppers were tossed to the side, and Steve took up the dice, this time rolling six hundred in the first go, and slowly eking out two hundred and fifty more-- even when he was down to a single die. Then he got to gather them all up and roll again, with a natural thousand and fifty coming out of it.

“One thousand nine hundred, and Stefna is on the board and takes lead.” Fell announced, putting his score down.

“Might as well hand him the pot now.” Njal added, though it was clear he didn’t really mean it, or begrudge Steve his roll.

“First timer’s luck.” Ingur announced, and Raynor took up the dice.

He got up to four hundred before rolling nothing, and Njal took his turn, taking four fifty and stopping.

Ingur got on the board, stopping at one thousand one hundred, and Fell turned to look at Steve as he began shaking the dice between his cupped palms.

“A side bet between us? If I beat your roll, you tell me where it is you are from.” He looked expectant.

Steve grinned.

“And if you lose?”

“Then I tell you where I am originally from.” Fell’s eyes flicked around the table, and Steve wondered if that meant the others did or didn’t know.

Maybe the joke was he was from here; even if that was the case, Steve liked the camaraderie. It felt like the sort of thing Falsworth would have done, back in the day.

“Deal.”

Fell grinned back at him, then threw the dice. And again, and again-- by the end of his turn, he’d racked up three thousand, and the others were murmuring, but not quite accusing him of cheating. Not yet.

“I’m from Earth.” Steve told him, passing the copper pieces from that round’s bet over. “Uh-- Midgard, you call it.”

“Oh yes... I’ve been.” Fell said shortly, his eyes tracking across Steve’s face, and Steve wondered if he saw him differently because of it. The others seemed unfazed, but Fell…

It didn’t look like pity, which was how a lot of the courtiers had responded, the ladies murmuring something about how sad, how brief and beautiful their lives were. It was, quite frankly, the worst.

Instead, he got the sense Fell was looking for something specific. Almost like he was looking for proof that Steve was what he said. Though, if he’d been to Earth, if he’d seen humans before, he had to know what they looked like.

He tried to shrug it off with a drink of his ale.

“Alright, I admit I lost, but uh-- yes or no answer should be free right? Are you from Asgard?”

Fell studied him all the more intensely, then looked around at the others.

“I was not born here, no.” He said slowly, then suddenly his grin was back. “But for more than that, you’ll need to beat my roll this round. And to add to it-- I will bet that Raynor rolls high this round.”

Fell placed his coppers and slid them towards the corner where the pot seemed to reside. Each of the others anted up in turn.

And Steve rolled.

It went around the table, and Raynor did manage to get on the board, but definitely didn’t roll high. That pot went to Njal. And Steve managed to beat Fell’s roll by a whole fifty points. So when the dice came around to him again, he gave him a pointed look, and Fell exhaled noisily.

“I was born on Jotunheim.” He said finally, again glancing at the others. He sat stiffly, braced for a bad reaction.

The rest of them looked... surprised, and Steve didn’t really know the context, but he did know he hadn’t been introduced to anyone from there, despite there being dignitaries from all the realms they traded with at court. Which made him think that maybe things were less than friendly between Asgard and Jotunheim.

And Fell’s posture only made that guess seem more correct, though the others didn’t seem openly hostile.

“The hell was your mother doing there, of all places?” Ingur asked, and Fell snorted.

“Did you want a side wager of secrets as well? I could ask about your wife’s sister… and why she needed to hide from said wife.”

Ingur’s lips all but disappeared inside his mouth, and it was awkwardly silent for a moment until Raynor coughed.

“I don’t think _anyone_ needs to ask about that. You dog!”

Njal raised one clearly disapproving eyebrow.

“Buy our silence with the next round.” He commanded, and Ingur sighed but stood.

Steve looked to Fell.

“I feel like you like starting trouble.” He murmured.

Fell laughed and opened his mouth to say something, but Steve pressed on.

“Seems to me you were pretty tense, though, about saying where you were born, and starting trouble was just a distraction. This is just a game-- you don’t have to put yourself in that kind of situation, or anyone else, either. Certainly not to keep up with me; my secrets aren’t that kind of…I just mean, there’s no reason to be uncomfortable. I just want a game and some company. And none of the secrets I have to trade are worth it.”

Fell jerked back a little, clearly surprised, and studied him harder.

“You’re an interesting person, Captain.”

Steve blanched.

“You know me?” He asked, feeling somewhat blindsided. But of course, Thor had made kind of a big deal out of him. That had to be it.

“We’ve actually met before.” Fell answered, waving dismissively as the drinks were served, and Steve saw that Fell had been given one as well.

He raised his eyebrows and lifted his cup, drinking from it as he’d been taught was the only way to avoid giving offense. Or at least… any _more_ offense, Steve realized, swallowing with a slight grimace.

“I apologize-- it’s very rude of me not to remember. When did we meet?”

Fell gestured at the dice.

“Shall we play for that, next? The best of three rounds, I think.”

“If you’re doing that-- Ingur, I want to know, was the girl on Vanaheim really your sister? And is she spoken for?” Raynor bounced his brows, but laid out a couple of copper bits as he spoke.

“My copper’s on the answer being no to both.” Njal answered, and Steve tried to hide his disappointment at the turn in conversation. But he supposed there were some constants, worlds over. Like men being pigs, from time to time.

Fell, however, noticed. Because of course he did.

“You mustn’t think poorly of us-- or of Ingur. Not all Asgardians are so quick to adultery… and not all Asgardians are forced into arranged marriages before they are old enough to understand what it means.”

Ingur blinked, then frowned.

“Oh yes-- My wife knows, and has her own dalliances. Out of respect for our families, we keep them out of sight, and out of the mouths of others. But there is no harm meant, nor done, and while I may lie to this lot--” He jerked his head at the other men, “I would not so betray my wife.”

Steve wasn’t sure what to think of that. On the one hand-- they had the concept of adultery, or something close enough for it to translate that way. On the other, there was clearly some sort of understanding there, and he supposed it was fair… if he didn’t have a choice, he’d probably act out against it, too. And at least the guy seemed to respect his wife, which was more than he could say for some of the other men he’d heard talking like this.

He shrugged.

“None of my business either way, but thanks for explaining just the same. I uh… back on Earth, in America, we don’t have that same sort of… you know, arranged marriages. Not anymore, I mean.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want you thinking badly of Asgardians.” Fell said, and he had that odd searching expression on his face again.

“Hm. I try not to think badly of any group based on a few people in it.” Steve said. “Are all the bets placed? Can I start the round now?”

The consensus was yes, and around they went, then again. Steve kept an eye on Fell, not because he expected him to cheat or anything, but because he had been so nervous about the last secret he’d traded.

Raynor managed to break 10,000 points on a very good roll, and that left the rest of them scrambling to catch up-- and meant that the game was potentially halfway over.

Steve found himself somewhat disappointed at the prospect.

The talk turned to food, rather than women, and Steve was grateful. Mostly because he had a feeling Fell had done it on purpose. And with the switch in conversation, the comfortable ease that the game had begun with slowly returned.

At the end of three rounds, Fell was on top-- which made Steve realize that they had never set a fair tradeoff bet for him, if he lost.

The money was passed around, and Fell turned to look at Steve, some of the wariness back on his face.

“Have you remembered when we met before?” He asked, And Steve chewed on his cheek, genuinely wracking his mind.

Asgardians looked human enough, and Fell seemed observant-- and more than willing to hold back and wait, watch, size up the people around him. He was smart, and seemed good at managing situations. He’d probably blended right in with anyone he’d been with, unobtrusive to the point of effective invisibility.

Unbidden, he thought of Stuttgart, and Loki-- who behaved exactly the opposite. Rushing in, standing out, making a spectacle of himself.

And yet.

Steve looked at Fell, really looked, and behind the red hair and the obvious hesitance, he did look familiar.

He didn’t seem as gloating, as prideful, or as desperate, but… it was there. There was little doubt who he’d spent the evening trading secrets and playing games with. And Steve’s stomach lurched a little at that, but the open concern on his face made him stop and actually _think_.

And Loki, who had been watching him in turn, must have seen some sign in his expression, and he smiled, though it seemed strained and didn’t reach his eyes.

“I will leave, if you like.” He offered quietly. “As I said, I want no trouble.”

Their companions were watching and listening, clearly confused and a little alarmed by this turn of events.

“What, are you afraid hat Raynor will beat you?” Steve asked, knowing full well he was a shitty actor and couldn’t pull off the required casualness he needed to.

Loki’s brow furrowed, and Steve gave him a probably no less strained looking smile in response.

“I don’t know why you’re here, but we’re in the middle of a game. We can talk after, if you’d like.”

Loki hesitated still, but nodded, and the other three traded glances.

“Now I feel like they have a secret we aren’t in on.” Njal quipped. “Is it something we can play you for-- explanation as to what the Hel that was all about?”

“Absolutely not.” Loki said instantly, flushing, and Steve laughed, taking some pity on him.

“It’s not a good story; trust me.” He told them, then winked, and the expression on Loki’s face when he realized what Steve was implying was absolutely worth every moment of discomfort the evening had brought so far.

Steve was holding onto the dice, and before anyone could argue further, he shook and released them.

Attention quickly snapped back onto the game at hand, though there was some playful ribbing across the table, once again on the subject of who slept with who and, as the stories turned around the table, _what._

Asgardians were into some kinky stuff, and apparently their genitalia was compatible with creatures from several other realms, which… good to know, Steve guessed.

Thor and Jane seemed to be making a pretty good go of things, and even if no one alive on Earth could treat him like just one of the guys, at least there were several other worlds where he was normal.

Or, closer to it. The shorter lifespan was probably a huge drawback for folks who referred to him as a mortal.

He grimaced and sighed, but tried to steer himself clear of that maudlin line of thought.

“Take heart, Captain,” Loki murmured. “Not all Asgardians are so sex driven as this lot; and besides, we may yet use their distraction to our advantage.” He nodded towards the scores, then across the table, and Steve followed his look.

Raynor was at 18850, and still rolling with all of his dice-- which made it entirely possible that he could roll another high round and send himself over the goal of 20000.

While Steve watched, he rolled-- though his roll went a little wild, and one die hit the floor.

“One thousand fifty.” Ingur announced.

Raynor resurfaced with the retrieved die, and rolled it-- and Steve couldn’t be certain, but he suspected he saw Loki move from the corner of his eye, and whether he ‘helped’ or not, the die landed on a one.

“Make that two thousand fifty. And that means you’re over.” Njal sounded incredibly smug.

“Sixteen Eight.” Loki announced, and Raynor grimaced.

“I suppose the next round will be on me then-- doubt any of you will roll any lower than moving backwards by two thousand.”

“No, likely not,” Njal agreed, still in a good mood from Raynor’s miserable turn.

It was true; everyone else advanced, and Raynor brought up the rear… and his bar tab.

Steve was glad that he had the serum, because even with it he was starting to feel the effects of his drinking, and it was clear the others were, too. Loki less so, and Steve suspected he was doing some sort of magical trickery to get rid of far more than he drank, but he couldn’t prove that-- or even accuse of it, without putting a halt to the game. And in all honesty, no matter how it played out, at this point he was just enjoying it and the chance to get a better measure of Loki, now they weren’t at one another’s necks.

Still, the game had to come to an end at some point. They had each come far enough that they were progressing with just a few dice-- forward and backwards until, by sheer luck, Steve rolled the last fifty points he needed to make twenty thousand.

He sat back in his chair, very satisfied, and drank while he watched the others attempt to catch up with a final roll each.

Only Loki managed, making them the tied winners of the game.

As the others squabbled over counting out the winnings, dividing them, and subtracting all of the side bets from their respective totals, Steve turned to Loki.

“I guess this means neither of us owes the other anything,” he said, watching Loki’s face to try and tell if that disappointed him.

“Or that we both owe the other all the answers they wish. You did say we might talk, after the game. And I suppose I should walk you back to your lodgings to be sure no one gets any ideas, considering how much heavier your purse is about to be.”

Loki nodded at the pile that had been pushed towards Steve, already dumping his own winnings into a small leather bag that he’d produced seemingly from nowhere.

Steve did the same, and thanked the others for the game.

They grumbled a little, but Raynor clapped him on the shoulder.

“If you feel like trying again without your first timer’s luck, we’ll be back here tomorrow night, more than likely.”

Steve nodded, glancing to Loki, and smiled.

“We’ll have to see. But I appreciate the invitation.”

On a whim, he glanced towards the bartender.

“How much is left on that gold piece?”

“Just less than half half.” The barkeep answered.

Steve did a quick calculation, then smiled.

“Another round for these three, and the rest is for you, with my thanks.”

Loki stood by the door, watching, and when Steve turned back, his eyebrows were halfway up his forehead.

“I cannot tell,” Loki said, breaking the silence as they stepped out the door together, “whether you are just inexperienced in our coin, or if you are over generous by nature. The barman likely makes that much in tips over the course of three nights, here.”

Steve felt himself flushing and shrugged.

“I grew up pretty broke-- I think I compensate by tipping well. I know how much of a difference it can make in someone’s life, even that little bit. And especially with me staying up at the palace most of the time… well, it’s not like I’ve been spending much money otherwise.”

“Hm. And why venture away from King Thor’s halls tonight?”

The was bitterness to the way he said _King Thor_ , but Steve let that one lie for the time being.

“I got tired of the pity.” He said simply. “How about you? Why hideout down here, why lie about who you are? Aren’t you a prince?”

“It’s a bad time to be a prince in Asgard, and a worse time to be myself, I’m afraid.”

Loki sounded anything but, though. He sounded almost like he enjoyed it.

“King Thor has enemies who would love to leverage me against him, and I have enemies of my own. Better to be Fell, who has none.”

Steve found himself nodding along.

“That makes sense. Smart.”

Loki paused, almost seeming to stumble to a halt, and Steve stopped as well, turning to see why. Loki was just staring, though.

“Is it?” Loki asked pointedly, and Steve felt his eyebrows rising.

“What?” He asked, lost.

“Sensible? Most here would look down on me for my dishonesty.” He seemed to be daring Steve to do the same, or giving him permission, maybe.

“Well, I introduced myself as Stefna, and I wasn’t planning on telling anyone where I was from. I guess that’s pretty dishonest as well, so it’s not like I have room to talk.”

Loki’s lips curved into a small incredulous smile.

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

He began walking again, leading Steve back towards the palace.

“Wait, uh-- where are you staying? I mean, I haven’t seen you up there as long as I’ve been here, so--”

“I have my own wing. Even the servants tend to steer clear of it; I’m known to have a terrible temper, a wicked sense of humor, and a love of privacy.”

“Oh. So you just… spend your time up there alone, or come down here for company?”

Loki studied Steve’s face before answering.

“You have spent time with my brother’s courtiers. Can you blame me for wishing for an evening of companionship without ulterior motives?”

Steve laughed.

“No, I guess not. Though it does seem funny-- I’m pretty sure you had ulterior motives the moment you saw me in that bar.”

He realized too late how that sounded, and he could see from the devious twinkle in Loki’s eye that he hadn’t missed the implication.

“More since the moment I saw your gold-- I didn’t place your face until you mentioned where you were from. You’ll forgive me for saying, Captain, but you blend in perhaps a little too well, here.”

“Steve.” He corrected. “If you’re not making me call you Your Highness, then you don’t have to call me Captain.”

Loki hesitated again, searching his face, and Steve couldn’t blame him for being wary. There was an elephant in the room, so to speak, that they hadn’t even sort of acknowledged yet.

“Can I make you another trade?” Steve asked, and he was prepared, this time, for Loki’s expression to shutter off a bit, so he pressed on.

“Talk with me some more. Let me ask you about the invasion-- I won’t promise not to get mad, but I promise not to try and hurt you or anything.”

“And in trade? Or was that the end of your generosity-- your promise not to _try_ to hurt me.” Loki’s voice was flat, and Steve winced.

“No, no I uh-- I thought you might still like to learn some of the other games we play with dice on Earth. We have a lot of them.” He knew he sounded maybe too earnest, too desperate, but he wanted Loki to agree to talk to him. Wanted the chance to ask.

Loki studied him, then sighed.

“Why.” He said, and though it had no inflection, it still felt more like an accusation than a question.

“Probably for the same reason we both snuck out to that bar tonight: to feel normal. You treated me like a person when you could have treated me like a dignitary or an enemy. I’d like the chance to do the same.”

Loki’s lips curled up at the edges, and he nodded.

“Alright. We can play in my sitting room, where the rest of the court will not bother us. You can ask your questions, and leave whenever you like, if my answers are… unsatisfactory. And you will teach me your games of dice.”

“Great!” Steve answered, a slight spring in his step. “We’ll start with Yahtzee.”

“Yatsi. Yes, tell me about it.” Loki seemed almost as eager, now, to seize onto the subject, and Steve thought it might be because he thought he wouldn’t have much time, once they got to talking.

Not if he thought Steve was going to walk out on him halfway through.

He would just have to prove him wrong. He’d done it a few times already that night.

And, even if it was just internally this time, Steve decided to bet on himself again.  
It felt like good luck.

  



End file.
